Veil of Shadows Page 3
Chastened by that reprimand, John turned to look out the carriage window to his right, but he allowed his left hand to linger near that cold. It lingered there until his fingertips were blue from it. It wasn’t a touch, it wasn’t the soft resilience of flesh, but it was the closest he had come to any tactile proof that his late wife was still present in his life. He meant to savor it.
* * *
Adelaide smoothed her hair as the carriage wheels crunched on the gravel drive outside. It had been three days since they’d received the initial telegram from Lord Mortimer that he was on his way to visit them. Another had arrived just that morning that Lord Mortimer was en route to Cysgod Lys with Madame Leola and her servants. She’d made accommodations ready for all of them, but she was still impossibly nervous. It was to be her first foray into any social situation as the Countess of Montkeith, saving their dinner with the Elams and that obviously did not really count. She worried that she would do something wrong and be an embarrassment to Eldren as she was clearly unprepared to be the wife of a nobleman. How exactly did one welcome a renowned expert in the occult and a mystic into one’s very, very haunted house?
“It will be fine.”
Adelaide started, her hand flying to her throat and a soft gasp escaping her. She hadn’t heard Eldren approach. She’d been so intent upon her appearance and smoothing the hair that he had mussed only moments earlier that she hadn’t even seen him walk up in the reflection of the hallway mirror. Things were not quite perfect between them, but they were better. Significantly better.
“Do not sneak up on me that way!” she admonished.
“I didn't mean to,” he said with a grin. “Now, relax. You look lovely.”
“I look like I was just doing very wicked things in the library,” she protested. And it was true. The way he’d touched her, the scandalous things he’d whispered against her ear as he touched her so intimately brought her to blush with the memory.
“And you were. Very wicked. Very naughty. And very abbreviated. We shall rectify the latter when we take to our bed tonight.”
Adelaide’s heart thumped in her chest. He still had not made love to her in the truest sense of the word. She was, she thought somewhat amused at the notion, the most thoroughly debauched virgin in all of the British Isles. There was a hint of sadness in her too, however. He had warned her that experiencing desire and physical pleasure would only make her yearn for more. On that score he had been correct. Every night when he touched her, when he brought her to glorious release, she had to bite her tongue on the urge to beg him to take her, to finally make them one. It was not what they had agreed upon. Their agreement that he would obtain the devices she’d read about, devices that would allow them to explore their passion more fully without risking a child, had not been spoken of again. But she knew that he had gone to Chester just the day before. But she wouldn’t ask. She had promised him she would not. That she would not ask such things of him until they were both free of whatever dark curse held Cysgod Lys firmly in its grasp. And that was why it was so terribly important to make a good impression on Lord Mortimer and his guest.
Tromley appeared from whatever nook or cranny he occupied near the doors whenever guests were expected and opened them promptly at the first knock.
Lord Mortimer stepped inside, a striking woman with coal black hair and vivid green eyes at his side. She wore a traveling costume of the deepest and most vibrant crimson that Adelaide had ever seen. There was a faint sheen to the fabric so that it almost appeared liquid, like blood, as the light played off it.
“Lord Montkeith, Lady Montkeith,” Lord Mortimer said in greeting. “It is a pleasure to see you again, my lady. Please accept my condolences on the loss of your father. He was a great friend and a truly fine man.”
Adelaide nodded in acknowledgement. “Thank you, Lord Mortimer. I believe you and my husband have met?”
“We’ve never been formally introduced though we are both devotees of the sport of fighting. I think we shared an instructor in the pugilistic arts,” Lord Mortimer said.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mortimer,” Eldren said.
“And my companion,” Lord Mortimer said, “Is the incomparable Madame Leola. She does not use nor does she require a surname.”
“How do you do?” Adelaide said, uncertain of exactly how to address the woman.
“This house has many layers, my lady,” Madame Leola said, stepping past Adelaide to run her hands lightly over the walls, over the furnishings. “There are so many things present here, some wicked, some protective, and others still that are completely neutral or who exist to cause chaos. I have never been in a place quite like it.”
“You see the ghosts so clearly?” Eldren asked her, his skepticism obvious.
“I do see spirits very clearly, Lord Montkeith,” Madame Leola offered with an enigmatic smile, “But that was only in reference to the living. The dead will tell me what they seek soon enough.”
Adelaide shivered. “Let me have Tromley escort you to your chambers. I’m sure you require a rest after such an arduous journey. Dinner is promptly at seven and perhaps we can discuss your perceptions of the house more freely then?”
“I shall look forward to it, Lady Montkeith,” Madame Leola said. “Until dinner.”
When Lord Mortimer and Madame Leola had gone, servants and bags in tow, Eldren wasted no time in expressing his opinion of her. “She’s a damned charlatan.”
“We don’t know that,” Adelaide said. For her part, she believed Madame Leola had a gift. The woman had walked past her to casually touch the walls and furnishings of the entryway. When she had, their arms had brushed and the experience had been rather like an electric shock. But there was more than that and she could not hope to explain it to her husband. There was simply a knowing there. She believed Madame Leola and, more to the point, she believed that Madame Leola could help them.
“I know!” His tone was insistent and his expression one of supreme irritation. “It’s glaringly apparent, Adelaide. How she’s managed to pull the wool over Lord Mortimer’s eyes is a mystery, but I’ll not play the fool for her!”
“Keep an open mind, Eldren. You said you would. Please? For me?”
He looked back at her as he’d begun stalking towards the sanctity of his library. “I will be civil. I will play along. But I cannot believe for your sake or anyone else’s. I can only offer lip service.”
“That is enough… for now,” Adelaide said. “I think in time you will believe her. I think we all will.”
He frowned, his expression dark and troubled. “I fear that you will pin your hopes on this woman only to have them dashed. I do not want to see you disappointed, my dear.”
“Disappointment I can live with. Constant fear and terror—that, Eldren, must be eliminated if at all possible. You do understand, don’t you?” Adelaide reached out and covered his hand with hers, savoring the strength in him, the warmth of his skin and that point of connection that made her feel as if they could truly face anything so long as they did it together.
She knew, of course, that she was painfully in love with her husband. Infatuation and desire had mingled with the unspeakable intimacy they shared in the darkness of their bedchamber and she knew that her heart, if not fully engaged, was well on its way to being lost to him forever. He had not and likely would not return that sentiment. It was a terrible thought, one that made her heart ache, but it was better to face it.
“I do. And if it means parading a dozen charlatans through that doorway, then I will bear it happily… well, I will bear it,” he relented.
Adelaide smiled at that. He would. It was in moments such as that one she believed he might love her or come to do so, even if he would never feel free to admit it.
4
Dinner was a strained affair. Madame Leola was in rare form, Eldren thought. The woman wore an elaborate scarlet gown, similar in shade to the traveling costume she had worn upon arrival, her dark hair dressed in a fashion that
looked as if she’d tumbled from her lover’s bed to attend the evening meal. It was clear to him immediately that the woman had less than platonic feelings for her employer, Lord Mortimer. It was also quite clear to him that Lord Mortimer’s interest in Madame Leola was limited quite strictly to her abilities.
But it wasn’t the charlatan and her employer who were the primary source of tension that evening. Warren was drinking and wretched with it. Frances was—well, she was Frances. Cold, cutting, her words biting and sharp and her eyes sparkling with a sadistic glee whenever she managed to wound someone to the quick or make them uncomfortable. It was all a game to her, he thought, the thrust and parry of it as she tried to establish her own brand of dominance over the occupants of the room.
“Tell me, Madame Leola, can you discern the gender of yet unborn children?” Frances asked. “I find myself so overwhelmed with curiosity that I cannot help but ask!”
Madame Leola raised her eyebrows. “I can and I often do, Mrs. Llewellyn, but I fear it is too soon for you to have such information yet. It is best to wait until closer to the time of your confinement.”
Frances made a face. “I had hoped to be able to reassure my brother-in-law that there would be an heir to Cysgod Lys and the earldom, regardless of what might occur within his own marriage.”
Adelaide’s slight gasp was all the indication she gave that the barb had found its mark. But he didn’t need to defend her. Madame Leola was quick to the rescue.
“I rarely make predictions regarding the unborn, Mrs. Llewellyn, but in this instance, I feel quite secure in stating unequivocally that you need not worry about the heir to the earldom. Your child will never bear such a burden,” Madame Leola said. Her lips were curved in a slight smile and her tone was all that was kindness, but there was a spark in her eyes. She’d hit her target as surely as the most excellent of marksmen.
Frances face fell slightly. “Well,” she began after recovering, “Thank you for your kind reassurances, Madame Leola.”
“You are most welcome, my dear Mrs. Llewellyn. I know how distressing it can be to plan for the future of a child. That small bit of reassurance is the very least I can offer you.”
For his part, Eldren was done with it. “In lieu of the typical division of the sexes following dinner, Adelaide and I have a great deal to discuss with Lord Mortimer and Madame Leola. If you’ll excuse us, Frances, Warren… we’ll adjourn to the library and leave you to enjoy your dessert in peace. If that is acceptable?” Eldren lobbed the question at Lord Mortimer who clearly seized upon it as an escape.
“Quite right, Montkeith.”
* * *
Adelaide rose and Madame Leola followed suit, as did Eldren and Mortimer. Together they walked out of the formal dining room and made their way to the library with Frances still sputtering behind them. Eldren’s tone and his words had made it more than clear that neither his brother nor his sister in law were welcomed to join them. If Madame Leola thought it odd that the other couple should be excluded from such discussions she managed to conceal the response rather well.
As they entered the small drawing room, Adelaide felt inclined to speak and to defend Eldren’s behavior as some might think him ungracious. “You must forgive my husband’s apparent rudeness, Madame Leola. Frances can be… well, difficult, I suppose one could say.” She didn’t acknowledge Warren’s drinking. It wasn’t really necessary as no one in attendance could have missed it.
Madame Leola smiled. “Oh, I’m aware of precisely what Mrs. Llewellyn can be, Lady Montkeith. Make no mistake. Her character might be masked by her pretty face for some, but my gifts allow me to have a more astute impression of others’ true natures than most are blessed to have. She has made things difficult for you since you came here, has she not?”
Adelaide frowned as she dismissed the footman and poured the sherry herself. She was reluctant to have their conversation overheard. “I wouldn’t say difficult. Inconvenient, perhaps. Do your gifts give you insight, Madame Leola, into why people are the way that they are or do you simply see the end result of their choices?”
Madame Leola accepted the small cordial glass and sipped it. With her head cocked to one side in a thoughtful manner, she began to explain her talents. “I see many things. Past, present, future. I also see what people want, what drives them, but not everyone is aware of their own motivations. But then there are people like Mrs. Llewellyn, people who I can only catch glimpses of… There is darkness in her, it hovers around her constantly and much of it is of her own making.”
“What sort of darkness?” Adelaide demanded.
“This is where it becomes truly interesting, Lady Montkeith… I sense that Mrs. Llewellyn has gifts of her own, because beyond the most vague sense of unease in her presence and that darkness which seems to surround her, I can tell you nothing about her. She conceals her true self, her nature and her intentions very well.”
It was frustrating to have no further inkling of what Frances was planning and what she was capable of. Adelaide had her own suspicions about Frances and they involved her being right in the thick of all the things that were happening at Cysgod Lys. While she had no questions that the power she’d encountered was ancient, evil and all too real, she could not shake the feeling that Frances had been dancing with the devil in that particular regard.
“She is with child, as you know, and never fails to remind me that I am not and likely never will be.” Adelaide made the statement matter of factly, hoping to keep her own resentment and jealousy concealed. Neither emotion was one she was particularly proud of or wished to encourage, and yet both seemed to grow daily. Knowing that Frances would have something that she herself never would had created a terrible bitterness inside her, almost as if the darkness of Cysgod Lys was invading her to her very soul.
Madame Leola smiled sadly. “So she is, Lady Montkeith. But it is not a joyous thing for her. Merely a means to an end and whatever gifts she may have, the ability to foretell your future is not amongst them.”
That thought did not make it better, Adelaide realized. “But you do not know what end she seeks. How can you be certain?”
Madame Leola nodded sagely. “Women who are with child are, generally speaking, filled with joy and anticipation at the thought of it. I sense none of that in Mrs. Llewellyn. Only shrewdness and calculatory glee. Forgive me for speaking so boldly and so plainly about your relatives, my lady. Regardless of your relationship with her, it is not my place--.”
“But it is your place!” Adelaide protested. “We invited you here, along with Lord Mortimer, to help us discover precisely what is going on at Cysgod Lys. That applies to the natural and the unnatural order of things, Madame Leola. And Frances is right at the heart of it all, I think.”
The mystic eyed her for a moment, cautiously and curiously, her head cocked to one side as if in deep concentration. “Forgive me for saying so, Lady Montkeith, but you did not need me to find those answers. The power to discover the truth lies within you. You have only to seize it.”
“I don’t understand.”
Madame Leola squeezed Adelaide’s hands in what was meant to be a consoling manner. She felt a frisson of something that she could not name. Power, perhaps, like a jolt of electricity through her skin. “My dear, Lady Montkeith, you are possessed of gifts that are very similar in nature to my own. The difference is that I have been training from the time I was a child to utilize and harness those gifts. You are untrained, untutored, and it is because of that these dark forces at work in this house are drawn to you. They want that power for their own. And we must, whatever the cost, prevent that from occurring.”
Adelaide laughed. “You could not be more wrong, Madame Leola. There is nothing about me that is extraordinary or special in anyway. Surely, you must see that?”
Madame Leola rose, closed the distance between them and took one of Adelaide’s hands in her own. That slight frisson of current that she had felt when their arms brushed in the hall was only a shadow of the
power that Adelaide felt in that moment. It rushed through her fingertips, raising gooseflesh on her skin and making her breath rush out of her in a hiss. “I don’t understand this.”
“Your mother sheltered you from your own abilities… because they mirrored her own and she wished to spare you such things,” Madame Leola said. “It was an extraordinary testament to her gifts that she was able to do so. But we must strip all of that away and uncover the raw power that exists within you, my lady. That is the only way.”
“I don’t understand.”
“There is something about you, about this untapped power that courses within you, that it is drawing from… if we do not grasp how to harness your power for yourself and prevent this house from using it and you, all will be lost.”
Adelaide frowned, “It’s my fault, then? These things have happened here because of me?”
“It isn’t your fault, at all, my dear. The power here is elemental and fierce. It did not require your presence to attempt this coup, if you will, on the world of the living. It has an agenda and would have found a way regardless… but at the moment, you are fuel for it. And we must find a way to halt that.”
“I should go,” Adelaide said, even though she knew it wouldn’t work.
“This thing followed you to Chester, it forced you to return here upon fear of death… if that is not proof that it views you as not only extraordinary, but imperative to its agenda, nothing could sway you.”
Madame Leola returned to her seat and sipped her sherry quietly, as Adelaide mulled over that rather disturbing possibility.
* * *
“You’re not a believer, are you, Montkeith?” Mortimer asked. He paused long enough to take a short draw from the cigar he was savoring. “I wasn’t always.”